Page 21 of Dirty Filthy Billionaire: Part 2

He’ll love this, I think as I type back a reply: At The Well having drinks with Brody.

The text bubbles start almost immediately, just like I knew they would.

Who the fuck is Brody?

Friend.

Come to my place. No friends allowed.

Maybe after, I write.

I put my phone away, not wanting to read any more texts about why I’m not at his penthouse yet.

“How about a shot of Fireball?” Brody suggests.

“I’m in.”

He orders two and we toast to being awesome bosses as soon as we have the chance.

I ask Brody about the girls he’s been seeing but he tells me they’re nothing special.

“Like, I could never get any of them to do Fireball with me,” he says as if this is the measurement of a good girlfriend. “They’d totally turn their noses up. No one is fun like you are.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll find someone. I mean, probably not as cool as me,” I say. “But you can give it a try.”

“I could never find someone as cool as you, Mia,” he says.

“Aw, you’re sweet.”

He wraps his arm around me and rubs my shoulder. “The best girl in all of New York.”

“Cheers to that!” I say, a bit drunk from all the drinks. As long as the day fades away, I’m good.

Until I’m not.

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